


Diagnostic

by Yokaikohai



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, Trauma, its pretty much connverse, steven goes 2 therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yokaikohai/pseuds/Yokaikohai
Summary: "Coming home after the second session and nothing felt real, the air was cooler, colours were brighter, lights were almost hypnotic.  The world had no smell whatsoever, everything was on autopilot and he was just watching himself from afar inside of his head.  The gems simply asked how he was feeling and all he could reply with was, “I don’t know.”Was this even progress?"-Steven comes home after a difficult therapy session.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Comments: 24
Kudos: 237





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> second fic but the first im ever posting pls b nice 2 me
> 
> Made a discord server for 18+ people! Please join, we're small and friendly https://discord.gg/mzMRsJ7

The first session was going to be the worst, he knew this going in. He had researched how he’d be expected to recall everything that’s ever shook him to his core, the big and the small and how he’d be expected to write down, draw, communicate how these things affected him. He knew this, but he had no idea it would be this difficult, this exhausting this excruciating.  
He wasn’t aware of how far he’d have to dig his nails into his past wounds. Wounds he had previously stitched up poorly -but quickly- just to stop the emotional bleeding. How’d he has to unpick every stitch, reach under his own skin to see what is left inside of him that hasn’t been treated, what hasn’t been resolved. Steven never realised how visible his bruises had become. 

The first session was far worse than he expected. 

whenever Steven bounced through the front door after a day out, he’d ask the gems about their days, cook a meal with Pearl -even if she didn’t eat, she liked to cook-, play a video game with Amethyst or just simply sit with Garnet and enjoy her company. Or it could be the opposite, he would come home to an empty house, devoid of light. Cold and unwelcoming.  
Coming home after the first session was almost just as overwhelming as the actual therapy itself. Feeling so hallow but heavy, too grounded and too aware of his negative emotions, he wasn’t in the mind set to be bombarded with sympathetic faces and worried eyes, full of guilt and pity. Supportive one-liners that just sounded like they had been recycled straight from his dad’s mouth. Steven just took himself up to bed, without saying a single word and cried, and cried and cried.  
It was only one afternoon once a week, could he handle this on his own? 

Coming home after the second session and nothing felt real, the air was cooler, colours were brighter, lights were almost hypnotic. The world had no smell whatsoever, everything was on autopilot and he was just watching himself from afar inside of his head. The gems simply asked how he was feeling and all he could reply with was, “I don’t know.” 

Was this even progress? 

Coming home after the third session Steven felt himself humming an upbeat tune through the door and into the kitchen, his body felt light and his heart full. Pearl was there, cooking him something to eat. Something that became a tradition -him coming home to a hot meal- he was home early. She stuttered over her own words, surprised by his early return. He gave her a quick squeeze and offered to help her cook. 

Could it be this good? 

Coming home after the fourth session was strange, he was hyper-aware of every movement. Every time Pearl slid her hands towards a knife and swung it into the air as she gestured while she spoke with Garnet. Aiming with perfect precision; she brought her knife down to lay waste onto the poor potatoes laying on the chopping board. He sat on the couch, his leg bounced on the spot, his eyes darting around the room. Amethyst played with a yo-yo beside him. Swinging the brightly coloured toy around all directions, skilfully, fingers contorted into intricate shapes and positions. Quickly shifting her hands into different poses while the toy flies in the air around her to show off different string formations. Her -impressive- display was invading his personal space, resulting with small twitches now and then to avoid being hit with the yo-yo.  
Amethyst asked him if he wanted to talk. He replied, “No, I just want to be near you guys right now.”

Coming home after the fifth session a mess. His head is a mess, his emotions are messy, his temper, his worry, his guilt, it’s all a mess. His nerves, his hands have never shook so much before. His vision, his vision has never been so shaky. 

It’s a dark day, the clouds are grey and heavy, the rain is freezing cold. Every little hit of water is like a small knife sticking into his skin. He just wants to hide away from it all. He slams the door behind him quickly, finally he’s in shelter. He won’t be alone anymore, even if he was only alone during the ride home. No matter, he wants to be around people who care about him. He needs all the support he can get. The past few weeks he’s switched between distant and loving with the gems, he just hopes they aren’t mad at him for wanting his own space occasionally. He needs some familiar warmth right now. 

He sighs and hangs up his soaking jacket, it was bright and sunny this morning, how could everything turn so dull so quickly? He pauses on that thought, it’s uncomfortable. It describes his entire life, his childhood. A normal day could go with zero to one hundred too quick. One minute he’s happily playing video games in his room alongside Amethyst, they are laughing and having so much fun, the next minute, a bubble has popped, and a corrupted gem is out and loose in his house and it’s aiming straight for him. Its claws are aiming for his throat, his face his two centimetres away from its teeth. Its knocked Amethyst halfway across the room, she can’t reach him in time. He must take matters into his own hands. He expands his pink bubble around him, the monster pops and its gem lands onto the ground with a clank. With a loud sigh he slides onto the ground to collect the gem into his arms, he notices a small crack on one of the rock’s faces. Steven’s stomach fills with regret, shame. This creature was trying to kill him, take his life away and he had landed a small -healable- wound, and he can’t help but feel like he’s a bad person. And this was just an example of a mild day, something this small could make him feel so ill.

Trauma. 

Dr. Priyanka had mentioned trauma before, it’s something that could be physical or mental.  
It’s something his therapist has brought up many times.  
It’s something he has recently started to think more and more about.

Childhood trauma. 

From how he’s been raised? He’s always known his life wasn’t normal, his parents weren’t normal, his living situation wasn’t normal, his powers weren’t normal.  
But he never imagined it could go this wrong being raised this way, it never thought it would be so devastating. He never thought about how his childhood was so so wrong.  
Its too upsetting to think about these things alone right now, he can’t escape from his own brain to get away from them, but he knows he’ll be okay if he has someone beside him.  
It takes Steven a couple of seconds to realise he’s been standing in front of the door for a couple minutes now, zoning out, he’s still soaking wet even with his jacket removed and hanging up on a coat stand. There is a small puddle of water pooling around his feet.  
Steven shakes his head a couple times to try and bring himself into reality again, he lifts his head up to stares into the living room, but it seems that no one is there. The lights are off and it’s quiet, all that can be heard is the rain beating against the floor and the sound is making him feel anxious.  
His breath hitches and he calls their names out.  
He’s all alone. 

His eyes start to water a little, but he tells himself it’s from dampness from the rain. There is so much new information in his head, something he needs to tell someone, anyone who will take care of him.  
He calls the gem’s cell-phones. He is greeted with fuzzy sounds. There mustn’t be any signal wherever they are.  
He rings his dad’s phone. He is greeted by his voicemail, “Mr Universe here! Busy with work right now, or sleepin’, call back again!”  
Steven’s eyes are like waterfalls now and he can’t pretend it’s the rain anymore, his nerves are shaking more than they have ever shook before. He runs a shaky hand through his hair and hisses, “Come on’ Steven…get it together, you’re okay.” Suddenly his therapist’s voice is soring through his head, “Technique.” He mutters.  
He remembers what to do in this situation now, he closes his eyes, stands up straight. He inhales as deeply as he possible can through his nose and forces his shoulders back. He exhales slowly afterwards and continues this practise for two more minutes.  
Steven rings his dad again; he doesn’t expect to get an answer from him but this time he’s gonna leave a message for him. If he can’t talk to someone right now, this is the next best thing. Letting someone know.  
He makes his way to his room, walking up the stairs with his phone to his ear, Greg’s voicemail message has finally stopped talking, “Hey dad, um, I just…wanted to let you know I’m home from my therapy session and have new information that I just need to…get out right now…so if you could call me back when you’re free that would be great~”

He lets out a small sigh and throws his phone onto his bed, he hasn’t bothered to turn on the lights because he knows he’ll probably just crawl into bed and rest for awhile until someone comes home.  
He drops his heavy clothes onto the floor, they must be pulling his mood down with their weight. He leaves them on the ground, his room is already a mess anyway clothes are already all over the floor, cups and glasses are sitting on his selves, empty food boxes are laying around, what’s a couple more soaking wet clothes on the floor? He slips on a clean t-shirt and a random pair of pyjama pants that he rummaged through a pile of clean clothes that had been heaped together on the floor to find. His fresh change isn’t as warm and as cosy as he thought it would be, but it beats cold clothes.  
Just like his phone, he throws himself onto the bed and crawls his way underneath the covers. Everything seems fine, until a flash of lightening assaults his vision and his -almost- peace and quiet is disrupted. He jumps. It’s not that he’s scared of a little bit of thunder and lightning, he’s seventeen he can handle it. His mind isn’t in the right place right now for sudden movements, sudden bursts. It just reminds him too much of himself and what his been through. He clenches his jaw and bolts up right, “I can’t be alone like this.” He thinks to himself.  
His eyes are watering all over again and his heartrate has spiked, he stumbles to grasp his phone, flicking through his list of contacts. His finger hovers over Connie, he hasn’t spoken to her since the hospital, since their -what he considers- failed date. Tears are now running down his cheeks, the warmth is shocking against the coolness of his skin, it’s almost burning. 

Steven hits the call button and his whole body is now trembling. He hears the dial-tone confirming that his call is being connected, all Connie has to do is answer. After the first dial tone, his heart speeds up, after the second dial-tone, he starts to sweat. The third dial-tone is cut short as Connie picks up her phone, “Steven?”  
“Connie!” He shouts over her, “I-I’m sorry I just…I’m…I…today…” he stutters out, hiccupping in between words, “I just can’t be alone.” He sobs out and it breaks her heart. He is really crying now; he is hardly able to breath and she can hear him struggling to keep it together over the phone. His sobbing is almost violent.  
Connie shushes him gently, her voice is like silk, “Steven…I’m here, tell me what’s up?”  
There’s a small five second pause that feels as if it was ten minutes long. That violent sound of crying is back again, and she just about manages to understand what he is saying.

“…I…they diagnosed me…today…” His voice gets lower and squeaks, “…They told me I have PTSD.” Connie stammers, not sure of how to respond so Steven continues, “I’m all alone at home and I just needed to tell someone I just don’t know what to do about this.” He rushes out.  
He hears the sound of something slamming down onto a wooden surface through the other end of the phone, “Steven! I’m coming over!” She declares.  
Steven tries to fight it, “B-but Connie yo- “she cuts him off, “Steven! You can’t stop me!” she hangs up.  
Steven drops his phone and covers his eyes with his hands while sinking back into his bed, you can’t stop Connie when she sets her mind to something, he knows this all too well.  
It’s late in the afternoon and the busses are running at really awkward times, it’ll take Connie roughly twenty to thirty minutes to get to his house, plus it’s raining heavily outside, the busses will be cram packed with people, the air will be foggy and everyone will be soaking wet. Umbrellas will be poking into her, soaking her more, causing her discomfort, not to mention sand sticks to wet clothes so she’s going to be super uncomfortable in his home after trekking through the beach. He already feels like she’ll be uncomfortable around him because of all his issues, his outbursts, his insecurities. He passes out. 

“Steven! Steven! I’m here now.” She gently grabs his shoulders, towering over him on his bed.  
He stirs and opens one eye to look at her, “C-Connie…You...?”  
Connie flops down on top of him, her arms wrapping around his head, pulling him into a sweet embrace, “I’m here now Steven, don’t worry, I’m here.” She hums to him.  
Steven is still half asleep; he isn’t really awake enough to reply or assess what’s happening right now, so he just stirs again.  
With a yawn he sits up on his bed and Connie does too, his attention flicks over to his window, it’s even darker outside now, the wind is howling, it seems like a storm is on its way and he’s trapped her here with him.  
Connie rolls off to the side of him. Her eyes are staring straight into him, she wants him to talk to her, but she doesn’t want to directly ask him, because that’s something Steven must decide he wants to do. But her stare is making him anxious, she came all the way over here to check up on him and he should probably let her know what’s going on…But the issue is, he doesn’t really know what IS going in inside of his head. All he knows is that he’s damaged and doesn’t want to be alone. He’s done picking at his wounds today, he wants to clean them up and let them scab over tonight. His eyes are boiling again, everything is blurry.  
“Connie…I’m so sorry I dragg-“she cuts him off again pulling him into another hug.  
“I wanted to come here silly.” She murmurs into his hair, gently combing her fingers through his curls. “Do you want to talk about it…?” she asks.  
His chin is resting on her shoulder, she can feel him shake his head, “I just…wanted someone to know about my diagnosis, I just wanted someone here with me.” He whispers out.

Connie hums out a small giggle, “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”  
“…B-but what about your studying? I’m taking you away from that.”  
Connie stops stroking his hair for a second and Steven misses her touch already, she leans over him and reaches for her bag that was laying on the ground next to his bed. Reaching in she pulls out a book and presents it proudly, “No you’re not~!” She expects him to reply with a small goofy chuckle like he usually would, but he doesn’t. He whines and sinks deeper into his bed.  
Connie, still sitting up pulls his head over to her, into her waist, she swings her arm around his head and starts to fiddle with his hair again, “Come here.” She commands and he obeys.  
Steven shuffles a little closer and gingerly reaches his arm out to wrap around her waist. His eyes are still wet with tears, but they are starting to dry out on her jeans. She’s so warm compared to how cold he is, inside and out.  
Steven huddled into her side, Connie’s fingers running gently through his hair, a book resting in her free hand, they stay like this for a couple of hours. Soon enough, Steven is fast asleep. To the best of her abilities, she tries to study but it’s so difficult, all she wants to do is watch him sleep and make sure he’s content. With a tired sigh she slams her book shut, and it’s a lot louder than she expected because she feels Steven jump out of his sleep.  
Connie looks down at him and lets out a warm laugh, as Steven grumpily looks up at her  
“Sorry…but that was kinda cute.” 

Steven pouts and shuffles closer into her, she knows he’s only joking, and he’s not really annoyed with her. She slides down the bed, and lays down beside him, she cuddles into him, resting her chin on top of his head, his face nestled into her neck. She has her hands in his hair again, she can’t help herself.  
Steven slips his other arm underneath her waist and pulls her closer into him, he positions one leg in between hers. She squeaks, not expecting him to wrap both of his arms low around her waist, not expecting him to get so much closer.  
His voice low, raspy and tired he replies, “Sorry. But that was kinda cute.”  
Steven feels Connie squeeze him a bit tighter as she quietly laughs at him. He lets out a tired sigh and closes his eyes again.

Despite the fact he arrived home, so cold, so freezing, and so stuck. Connie was able to thaw out his heart, his happiness, and comfort him all with the warmth of her presence.  
Despite the horrible situation in which led to her coming over to comfort him, Steven was more than happy to spend the night cuddling into her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven wakes up from his depression nap, Connie's mom wants her home.  
> So he drives her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this was only be two chapters but lmaoooo it got so longer so it'll have three now
> 
> JOIN OUR SERVER WE'RE SMALL N FRIENDLY!! https://discord.gg/mzMRsJ7

The repetitive motion of slender fingers rippling through hair as if they were waves, gently crashing against the shore.

Waves gently caressing the rocks beneath, a process that slow -but surely- over time turns the hardest of stone, into soft golden sand. Just like stone, any worries, fears, or insecurities were smoothed into feelings of happiness, contentment and security.

The sensation of warmth rising and falling, pushing and pulling just like ocean currents.

Perhaps his subconscious is twisting any sign of emotional and physical support into complex beach metaphors due to the fact that his house is quite literally on the beach. He’s lived here for seventeen years, it makes more sense to him when he connects new feelings, new experiences to things and places that comfort him.

Steven is still curled up into Connie’s side, his mind is on the brink between reality and unconscious slumber. He must have fallen asleep soon after she invited him to cuddle into her.

It’s not his fault really, he understands this now. His brain too overwhelmed, too tired, too sick, had to find another way to keep its self-alive and kicking. Unfortunately, this resulted in his mind sucking what’s left of his body’s physical energy and transforming it into the power to dig deep into his memories, his childhood and retell the same agonising story over and over again to understand what went wrong, and why it’s wrong now and how to make it right. Apparently, this was what progress was-this is what therapy is.

Suddenly, Connie is shaking him fully awake, she’s very gentle doing so. Stroking circles into his shoulder, talking to him at only slightly louder than usual voice.

“Steven…hey Steven, wake up, I need to get home now…”

He stirs slightly, one eye open, finally registering that he’s not dreaming anymore, “…hm?”

Now that he’s awake, she can sit up now, hopefully it’ll prompt him to waken up a bit so that she can say goodbye to him.

“My mom seems pretty mad…she’s left multiple texts asking where I am, when I’m coming home, my phone was on silent mode I completely forgot!”

Just like she predicted, he sits up and stretches, “Oh…well, give me a minute and I’ll drive you home. It’s too dark for you to get the bus.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, you’ve had a long day, you deserve to rest.” She says.

Steven just shakes his head tiredly and manoeuvres his legs off the side of his bed, switching on the small rock shaped lamp that was sitting on his bed-side table. It’s to dark outside now, he isn’t even sure what time it is, but knowing Connie’s mother, he needs to get her home ASAP. 

The once calming metaphorical effects of the ocean’s waves are now crushing him. Sea water is infiltrating his lungs along with heavy rocks and pebbles that are entering his system, he’s drowning in guilt. The strength of the water is pulling him down towards the bottom of the ocean, just like how he dragged Connie here with his ugly crying and his emotional instability. 

He chained her to the sea floor. 

She came all the way here to throw him a lifeline and now he’s drowned her. 

Most people would kill to have a home by the beach, the beautiful sunrises and sunsets the hue of colours along the sand that they offer. The call of birds, wildlife and other natural wonders. Crisp, refreshing salty air, the kind of air you breathe in and can feel seasoning your life, the realisation of what you have and what’s to come. Most people would kill for the home he has, and yet, here he is, allowing himself to drown in the very waters they are jealous of. Does he really have any reason for feeling the way he does? The way he did before he soaked Connie with his wave of emotions?

“No, I want to.” He yawns out.

His signature pink baseball jacket is still probably soaked from earlier’s downpour. His eyes flick around his messy room floor, looking for the next best thing to throw around him, there’s still the empty stacks of take-away boxes, dirty laundry, cups and plates that were present in his room before his drifting away into a depression sleep. He sighs and throws a hand through his hair, “Oh…yeah, sorry about the mess by the way.” He must have been zoning out for a couple of seconds, because it takes him longer than it should to realise that Connie is standing near him, handing him a clean dark pink zip-up jacket she grabbed from his drawers. 

He gratefully grabs the jacket from her and offers a nod as a thank you.

Connie meets him downstairs at the door, he’s just finished putting on his shoes.

She abruptly tugs him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck, “…Are you sure you don’t mind…?”

It takes him a second of two to return the hug, he lets out a deep sigh through his nose, “Of course, I think I need a drive right now.”

She pulls back from his embrace, pinching his cheek, “…As long as you’re sure…” she heads her way out the door and he follows behind.

They stroll down the steps and out onto the sand, a silence following them as they made their journey towards the Dondai. 

Steven stands in front of the driver’s door, and Connie at the passenger’s, she throws the keys over the car for him to catch.

“Nice throw, Maheswaran.” He compliments.

He must be trying to lighten the mood, the strange tension that’s in the air. She isn’t sure if she’s just imagining it or if maybe she hasn’t seen him in so long that’s it’s caused a dent in their…friendship? She really isn’t sure what they are right now. Just month or so ago he had taken out her on the most romantic of dates and serenaded her in the very spot they had met as children. 

And then proposed.

The romantic side was all so ‘Steven’. 

Grand gestures of love and affection, deeply personal touches, sentimental gifts, and so on. That was definitely who he was, he had been nearly obsessed with romantic movies, books, weddings since they were kids. 

She wasn’t even sure if she was capable of planning an impactful date.

Connie was good when it came to structure, planning and logic, but planning a date required the exactly opposite traits to some extent. They needed a very skeletal structure, leaving enough room for spontaneity, tension, bursts of emotion and creativity.

But the proposal? It was out of the ordinary. Surely hopeless romantic Steven Universe wouldn’t really want skip past all the first dates, first kisses, mutual pining and slam straight into marriage? A fusion marriage at that. Isn’t the most romantic part the build up?

“Nice catch, Universe!” she replies back.

Steven slots the key into car, with a twist of his wrist unlocks the doors, they both pile inside. It’s pretty chilly outside at the moment but at least the rain has calmed down into a drizzle.

Seatbelts on, engine ignited, and radio on, Steven pushes the Dondai through the sand and towards the main road. One hand on the steering wheel, one hand fiddling with the dials on the stereo, his attention bouncing between the two. 

If Connie were to get the bus, or even walk home, it would take roughly twenty to thirty minutes. She’s thankful Steven is taking her home, this way she should be home within fifteen minutes. Now that she thinks about it, maybe taking the longer route would have been better, because when she gets home, she knows she in a lot of trouble with her parents.

She’s even more nervous now. The constant clicking of the indicator as they sit at the cross way isn’t helping either. She looks over towards Steven and he’s yawning, tiny droplets of tears forming in the corner of his eyes, maybe he shouldn’t be driving if he’s this tired.

The car finally turns at the cross-section, Connie is still staring at Steven.

He can feel her eyes on him, he glances towards her and then back to the road.

“Cassette tape or radio?”

She jumps a little in her seat, “O-oh…cassette maybe?”

“Pick whichever one you like.” He pops open the drawer for her.

She fumbles around the tapes, she has too many options, tapes that have obviously passed down from Greg. Labels from decades ago had bleached to dull yellow colour from consistent handling and probably from being left out of the box for so long, the ink used to define the print had worn down, text hardly visible. There were so many tapes, and along with them, probably so many memories too. A mixture of different genres, punk, classical rock, metal, musical soundtracks and video game soundtracks, but they were probably recent purchases from Steven.

A couple minutes had passed, and she decided to let her curious side win, she places an unnamed tape into the player. It was probably an old tape from the eighties or nineties. 

Her curiosity has been fed, there’s a noise of static before the heavy repetitive beats of drums join in, soon accompanied by the sequential rhythm of fast aggressive guitars. 

The vocals finally kick in.

Connie leans forward as she listens intently,

“Is that…Your dad?!”

“Mhm.”

“But…he sounds so young; Why haven’t I heard of this one before?”

“B-sides.”

Connie leans back into her seat and looks out the window, “Hm…the audio is so fuzzy.”

He doesn’t reply, now she’s definitely nervous. Is he ignoring her, too tired to muster up a reply or is he just concentrating on driving? The roads aren’t too busy at this time, and the rain isn’t as heavy as it was earlier it’s pretty visible outside right now.

There’s a pause.

She’s not going to sit here and drown in this awkward silence, she turns to Steven to ask him if he’s okay but before she knows it, his mouth starts talking.

“Hey…Connie? Do you think I have…a reason to feel the way I do?”

Connie blinks a couple of times, “What do you mean?”

Steven sighs, “I mean…like…how…’ he takes one hand from the wheel, rotating his wrist in a circular motion to encourage the words to come out,

'I feel bad, angry, scared about everything that’s **‘happened’** to me?”

There’s an emphasis on the word, as if it doesn’t really mean anything.

“Like, I have a family, a home, and food. A lot of people have it worse off than me.”

Connie can’t help but stare at him, “Steven…you went through a lot. I think it’s fair that you feel the way you do. Your pain was still valid even if others are going through worse right now…Your pain IS valid!”

Steven just hums as a reply. It doesn’t seem as if he’s really acknowledged her answer. 

Another five minutes pass by and she recognises that she’s nearly home, she doesn’t want to leave him on a bad note -if there even is one to begin with-

“Um…Steven…?”

Steven pulls into her driveway, right in front of her garage, with a loud click he pulls the handbrake into position, “Mhm…?”

The car’s engine is still running.

She slips her hand on top of one of his, “I just wanted to say…”

Steven glances at the hand of top of his, and then quickly to her face.

“I’m really glad you decided to get help…after what my mom told you.”

It seemed like Steven sank backwards into his chair a bit more and that his face contorted into a grimace for a split second. She probably just reminded him of how they got there in the first place, sterile hospital check-ups, X-rays, blood results, panic attacks. All too closely connected to the memories of their date the very day before.

“I mean it! I am- “

Her natural instincts kick in within a spilt second an overwhelming feeling of uneasiness washes over Connie, the sensation of being watched crashes into the back of her mind. She feels as if there is a lack of privacy at the moment, but she can’t quite pin way. Gaze detection. The phenomenon that people can detect being watched through extrasensory measures.

Gaze detection, psychic staring, scopaesthesia or as Connie knows it, the sixth sense.

Her eyes dart over to her front door, Dr. Maheswaran and their eyes meet each other’s.

“…Oh no…”

Steven follows Connie’s gaze towards Priyanka. She’s standing on front doorstep, her arms crossed, eyebrows drawn together.

Priyanka is a statue. Heavy, concrete, there’s no moving her. If Connie wants to inspect, admire the craftmanship, the attention to detail, and strokes and cracks that makes her face. She’ll have to take the first steps, after all pieces of art can’t walk.

The only issue is, instead of admiring the artwork, she’s approaching closer to assess the damage, read her face and see if she can get off lightly this time. When you live with someone for so long, you learn to be able to tell their different expressions of anger apart. It could be ‘I’m tired from work and I’m just irritable’ angry. It could be ‘Your dad doesn’t pick up after himself’ angry that develops into a ‘No body respects me in this house and I’m sick of it! I’m the only one who does any work around here now I’m going to aggressively and loudly clean up around the house to prove my point’ angry -that’s just how mothers were- 

Or simply the ‘You’re home late and didn’t answer your phone the entire time’ angry.

The expression of true anger on her face, how her posture stands up taller, fearless. The way her eyes will stare into her very soul, unwavering, making Connie feel like she has to kneel down and repent for her crimes. 

Fear shoots into the hearts of Connie and Steven.

Priyanka’s left index finger motions for Connie to get up, get up and march straight over to her. She mutters a quiet sorry to Steven before stepping out of the car with the door slamming behind her. Steven can’t hear what they’re saying, and he’s pretty glad. Priyanka is terrifying whenever she’s angry and Steven knows that this time, her angry is justified.

Steven sits for a couple of seconds, watching the two have a discussion, luckily it doesn’t seem like a fight by the looks of it. Priyanka’s stance hasn’t changed, but at least she isn’t raising her voice, as far as Steven can tell from the car anyway.

Judging by her body language, Connie seems as if she remorseful, shoulders back, head down, nodding solemnly.

Suddenly Priyanka’s stare is fixated on him. He’s feeling on the spot, her continuous stare is making him want to move, she wants him to respond in a certain way, but he doesn’t know how or why.

Connie rushes inside, now Priyanka is gesturing for him to come to her.

Sweat beads are rolling down his spine, with a small gulp of anxiety, he stops the engine and exits the Dondai.

She ushers him inside without saying a word.

Priyanka guides him to the couch; it seems as if she’s sent Connie upstairs.

“How are you really, Steven?”

Steven gives her a smile, “Uh, good! Therapy is going well.”

That cold stare of her is back, staring right through him.

“Go, on.”

“Uh…it was pretty difficult today I guess!” Steven shrugs his shoulders and offers her a laugh, “That’s just how it is I guess.”

The pressure from her stare is really starting to affect him, he can feel the sea floor ripping and cracking from her presence, if she holds it any longer, he’ll erupt like a submarine volcano, spilling his emotion magma everything. The cool effect from her icy stare will contrast with his fiery emotions causing magma to cool down and solidify in their house tainting it forever. He doesn’t want to push away what he considers another person who can support him.

Steven feels his eyes boiling up, “…I mean…I feel like I’m going backwards? And I’m just not good enough, I’m of no use to anyone, nobody needs me and I-“ he starts to ramble.

Priyanka is suddenly by his side, holding out her hand on his shoulder, “Woah woah woah, Steven it’s okay. Healing isn’t always a straightforward path. Sometimes it’s a maze, and you need to get lost, more lost than ever, before you can see where you need to go and how to get there. As long as you know you’ll get out eventually. Trauma doesn’t just go away, but with the support of your friends and family, you can manage these feelings, these thoughts. It’ll be okay eventually, trust me.”

Covering his face with his arm, nose nuzzled into the crook of his elbow to soak up his tears, he sputters out, “I hardly even have my family anymore…That’s why I called Connie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Priyanka wasn’t an overly affection person, especially with other outside of her family, the teen was trembling with emotions, and she knew enough about him from his daughter to know that a simple gesture of warm would be enough to comfort him in such a drastic way.

She pulls him into her arms, he doesn’t fight against it, she feels Steven’s shoulders relax and his pulse slows down.

She gives up the embrace and pulls away to get a good look at him, he’s utterly exhausted, who could blame him? His mental health was in a complete state. Bags under his eyes, eyes that lack a certain Universe sparkle.

“Steven, you seem too exhausted to drive. It would be irresponsible to let you attempt to get into that car. I think you better stay the night.”


End file.
